


Reassess

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Series: Entangle [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: Interface related injuries, Knockout being Knockout, M/M, Medical Check Up, Morning After, Starscream being Starscream, Starscream's pondering, a little petty revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream drags himself to medbay following the orders in Aftermath, after which he must put up with a Knockout who is now in the know.</p><p>Oh, and then he gets fragged again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reassess

**Author's Note:**

> See how this one flows. I wanted a reaction in each of Starscream's three chapters, but I also tried to combine two events, medbay visit and the second interface.

“Starscream, it seems you have an appointment with me.” Knockout’s voice had been mockingly cordial. The smile in his tone was clear as day. “And you’re already late. Tsk, tsk, Commander.”

Trying to avoid everyone during the beginning period of the solar shift was trickier than Starscream had thought. Even if he slowed his pace the damned eradicons turned their helms, noticing his limp as he glared at them in passing. He slowed his step anyway, if only to be as late as possible. It was not without fuming reluctance he forced himself to medbay. How _dare_ Megatron set him up! As if his insulting insistence last night on the bridge wasn’t bad enough, he went behind Starscream’s back and booked him in with the doctor – like some disobedient sparkling! Aside from the fact that Starscream initially had no intentions of obeying Megatron’s ridiculous demand last night, how dare he! Now he had no choice. He would be in deep trouble if he didn’t follow orders, and his punishment might not be of the usual aggressive persuasion…

“Ah, Commander,” Knockout’s suave and totally unnecessary drawl met his entrance into the medical bay. “So nice to see your smiling face this early in the morning.”

Starscream’s face was anything but smiling. He could have petrified the slagger to stone if he concentrated hard enough.

“Lord Megatron didn’t elaborate on any injuries or such,” Knockout continued, unaffected. He moved to a medical berth and waited expectantly for the Seeker to approach. “He just told me to do a _thorough_ check.” He smirked.

Starscream wanted to slap that smile from his perfect, shiny faceplate. Had Megatron mentioned exactly _why_ he needed a look over? It didn’t seem likely, Megatron wouldn’t disclose that information; Knockout was just being his usual unctuous self. Starscream stormed his way to the berth.

“Well, it’s been just two seconds and I can already deduce you have a limp,” Knockout said as Starscream shot him a dirty look and climbed onto the berth with as much belligerence as he could possibly display. “And something’s definitely wrong, as you have yet to snap anything at me. Are you _dying_?”

Starscream grit his denta. “Shut up and let’s get this nightmare _over_ with.”

Knockout immediately picked up on the malfunctioning modulation of Starscream’s voice, tilting his head curiously. “Have you recently stressed your vocalizer?”

“Yes,” the Seeker snapped.

“Sounds like it’s almost healed,” Knockout mused, though his expression held a strangely void quality, and Starscream had to wonder if he was being pitied. No doubt Knockout thought he had screamed himself raw from pain. He'd rather the doctor thought that, to be honest. Knockout's optics panned across Starscream’s chassis for a visual diagnostic. “But if you had come to me as soon as you did it, I could have treated the affliction quicker.” His gaze stopped at the marks on Starscream’s waist, eyebrows inclining. “These have been buffed. _Badly_.” In the next instance his expression jumped as details clicked in his processor. “ _You_ stole my rotary buffer!” 

“Yes, and it was appallingly useless,” Starscream sneered.

Knockout’s annoyance edged into amusement. “That might have something to do with the finishing pad attached to it. You would want the _cutting_ pad for these marks,” he added snidely.

Starscream shot him yet another glare. “Give it to me then and I can go and finish what I started.”

“Oh, no, no, no, Commander,” Knockout smirked, propping a hand on his hip. “You return the buffer to me, and _I’ll_ finish what you started. No arguments.”

Starscream growled irritably and pushed his helm back into the berth, denta barred. This was one of the reasons he detested medical visits; Knockout just loved to torment him. With anyone else the doctor would conduct his business in a much more professional manner – but not with him. Ugh. When he turned his optics back on Knockout, he found the medic’s gaze still lingering intently on his waist. Starscream’s spark hitched.

“These aren’t consistent with his usual beatings…” the red mech mused aloud, suspicion lining his frown. “Too neat to be…” He trailed off, and his expression changed into something Starscream couldn’t read. Just as Starscream was about to get up and divert his attention to _anything_ else, Knockout’s ringed optics zeroed in on his wrist. He picked up the Commander’s arm, taking Starscream’s servo in his other to inspect the damaged wrist. “He certainly lost control on his grip,” he mumbled, turning Starscream’s wrist over.

“What makes you think it was Megatron?” Starscream said touchily, attempting to wrench his arm from the medic’s grasp. But Knockout’s grip was tight, and he held on.

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” Knockout replied, testing Starscream’s wrist and its range of movement. He eased upon the hiss of pain. “I know there hasn’t been a conflict with the Autobots recently, and I know the size of Megatron’s fingers, they’ve been imprinted into you more times than I can count.”

Knockout couldn’t have missed the shudder that vibrated his frame just then. Starscream kicked himself mentally for his weakness, but the memory flashes dredged up by those words brought some unwelcomed heat to his circuits. Starscream successfully snatched his arm from Knockout’s servos.

“Just fix me up so I can go,” Starscream demanded sulkily, looking anywhere but Knockout’s questioning faceplate.

He didn’t bother watching as the doctor activated a medical scanner and ran it along the length of Starscream’s frame slowly, listening to the humming equipment. But when it paused unabashedly above his codpiece, he glanced nervously to Knockout’s face. He wished he hadn’t. Not a second later a knowing smirk curled across his pristine plate.

“ _Commander_ ,” he exaggerated with incredulity, looking much too gleeful as he pieced all the clues together with the evidence on his screen. “I would never have imagined it. _You and Megatron?_ ”

Unable to take the accusation, Starscream bolted up from the berth and would have jumped to the floor had Knockout not restrained him – by throwing his upper frame across him, no less. He must have expected it.

“Get off me!” Starscream growled, anger and shame burning his fuel line.

“Oh, quit with the theatrics, Starscream,” Knockout reprimanded, still smiling. “Patient confidentiality and all that. I’m not going to tell anyone, and considering what you must have gone through, you _definitely_ need medical attention.”

“What I don’t need is your snide remarks and disparagement!” Starscream jerked under the medic’s surprisingly strong hold.

“On the contrary, I wouldn’t dream of belittling you for this,” Knockout replied, his smirk eased into a genuine smile. “I’m rather proud of you, Herr Commandant.”

“Or your patronizing!” 

“I’m not patronizing you.”

“Let me go!” Starscream calmed just a little, glaring at the medic. Maybe he was energy deficient, there was no way Knockout was stronger than him.

“Only if you promise not to run off,” the medic bargained. “I have to heal and repair you or it’s _my_ aft on the line.”

Starscream exploded. “That’s it!” He struggled anew, wrenching one of his arms from Knockout’s. “I’ll destroy your finish for that!”

“Calm down! I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I don’t need jokes at the expense of my ordeal,” Starscream growled lowly, optics narrowed. He had managed to grip Knockout’s dislodged wrist to prevent it grabbing him again.

“Ordeal?” The smile disappeared from Knockout’s faceplate and something serious etched its way in. “He didn’t…? It was consensual, right?” He paused, his optics flitting intensely across Starscream’s aversive gaze. “Starscream, tell me he didn’t force you…”

Starscream hesitated. No, it had not been quite like that, but to admit it had been consensual brought a prickle of shame. It would be admitting he had allowed it. Wanted it. He wasn’t sure he could confess that to himself. 

“Starscream, this is _not_ okay.” He had never heard Knockout sound so serious – for _him_ of all mechs. His concern and alarm were shining across his face with sharp lucidity.

“Relax,” Starscream finally found his vocalizer grudgingly, looking away. “He didn’t force me. Not like that.”

Knockout’s optics were glued to the Seeker. He released his arm slowly and Starscream let go of his wrist, allowing him to pull away slightly. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring.” He watched the unusually quiet Seeker for a few moments, studying him, analyzing him. “Interfacing is supposed to be an unified act between – ”

“I know the _pitch_ , Knockout,” Starscream grumbled.

Knockout gave an airy nod. “Ah, of course, when you had your trine all those eons ago. I heard Seekers are very carnal with one anoth –”

“You can _shut up_ , now,” Starscream growled quickly, keen to divert the topic.

Knockout inclined his helm away discreetly-not-so-discreetly. “I _knew_ it,” he declared under his intake. He looked back at Starscream and plastered a fake smile on his lip plates, which only disgusted Starscream more. Then his carefree demeanor was replaced by the concerned one. “That aside, just answer honestly, for _once_ : Did Megatron force you?”

“A –!” Starscream opened his intake with all the angry gusto of his usual snappy and defensive remarks, but Knockout countered, well prepared.

“And don’t give me your superior, haughty, high-and-mighty _scrap_ that such a thing would _never_ happen to _Commander Starscream_ – because, believe it or not, I know how you _tick_. Any mention of vulnerability and you’re on the defense faster than you can _fly_.” Knockout’s gaze bore into Starscream’s. It was unlike him to challenge the flyer so insistently, so seriously. 

“How –!” Starscream began, inflated with ire.

“ – Dare I talk to a superior officer,” Knockout finished for him with less than his usual respect. He was done with Starscream’s ego. Usually he deemed personal matters none of his business, attempted to stay out of them if they didn’t interest him. But he seemed to take some sort of personal insult from his presumption. Starscream could believe he was passionate about such a vile act, perhaps it was his one exception in which he would get involved. And he certainly swung full. He was stripping away the jet’s invariable line of defenses – his attitude – in an endeavor to leave him with nothing else to hide behind, nothing to evade his question. It seemed like he almost _cared_ for the Seeker. Bah. “Commander, I will just keep asking.”

Starscream glared daggers at him, but kept his scathing words bottled. For a moment he thought he might launch himself at the medic, do some damage to that finish he maintained so diligently. But he didn’t. He felt his anger recede slowly, though not completely, and tore his glower from Knockout’s optics. It was a long stretch of hush before he answered.

“No,” he finally growled, quiet but no less annoyed.

Knockout watched him for the recurring silence following, and Starscream could feel his gaze across his frame, scrutinizing him, watching him, contemplating his attitude and measuring his reactions to what he knew about the Seeker. It was almost as uncomfortable as when he was exposed beneath Megatron, emotions free to read and completely unprotected. It was one of Starscream’s most hated sensations. All the more because Knockout knew him better than he wanted to admit. Starscream supposed he could have been dealt worse associates. 

When he looked back at Knockout, he was only slightly surprised to see the return of the smile.

“Aaah, I understand now,” Knockout said simply. Something in his optics told Starscream he _knew_. He glanced at the Seeker’s other wrist, and then back to the marks on his waist.

“Will you stop gawking and just _fix me_!”

Knockout rolled his optics. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a mech who was more uptight _after_ an interface, _because_ of an interface.”

“ _Knockout_ ,” Starscream’s growl wavered, his fist balled meaningfully.

The doctor held out his palms as a calming gesture and returned to his scanning device, running it the remaining way down Starscream’s legs. “Although I’m guessing the size difference might have contributed to your rather snippy behavior.” He jumped back expertly and not at all surprised by the sudden slash of talons. He studied his readings. “Not that I blame him, but Lord Megatron should have had a bit more consideration for your…” he glanced over the device at Starscream’s seething expression. “…Slimmer frame.”

“Gaagh, I could do without your commentary!” The Seeker snarled.

Knockout didn’t seem to even hear him. He looked up as something occurred to him. “That would explain the limp.”

Starscream had just swung his legs off the slab when Knockout gripped his shoulder armor, anchoring him back onto the berth.

“When did it happen?” He asked methodically.

“None of your business!”

“It is my business,” the medic answered easily. “When?”

“It doesn’t matter _when_.”

Knockout stared at him. One of those stares.

Starscream felt his faceplates crinkle in frustrated anger. “A solar cycle ago…”

The red medic frowned. “Your nanites are probably already repairing you, but as you’re still limping I will have to inspect the damage.” He tightened his grip, ready.

Starscream’s predictable reaction had him straining to get up again. “You will not!” He dug a servo full of sharp talons into Knockout’s, taking a small amount of satisfaction from the scowl. “It’s superficial! I will heal on my own!”

Knockout’s lip plates made a flat line. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but due to your small frameset and Megatron’s rather _large_ frameset, there’s probably more damage than you’re assuming.” He grimaced under the stinging. “ _Internal_ damages. I’ve seen my fair share; I know what I’m talking about.” When Starscream hesitated to let go, Knockout appealed to another side of him. “I’m a _medic_ , Starscream. I heal people. It’s my _job_. I’m not going to gloat, or use this over you, or whatever unscrupulous idea your paranoid brain module thinks I will do. _Primus knows_ how difficult it is for you to trust people, but I’ve had you on this table for much worse and I’ve _always_ performed remarkably.” Well, the last clause was saturated with pride, but he _was_ Knockout.

Starscream slowly released his grip, watching as the doctor waved out the pain and inspected the sharp gashes with displeasure. “Lock the door,” he commanded reluctantly, setting back on the berth.

Knockout pressed a control on the holoscreen by the slab and a distinct lock emanated from the medbay doors. Starscream felt only marginally better. 

“Would you rather be offline or online?” The red medic asked as he stepped over to his medical tools cabinet and returned with a transfuser. “I only ask because if you wish to remain awake I will have to inject a relaxant, and I know your aversion to those.”

Starscream was momentarily indecisive. Offlining would mean he would be defenseless (and yes, his paranoia and trust issues were always whispering away), but remaining online would mean he would have to endure whatever comments Knockout decided to pepper his examination with, and he would _feel_ whatever it was the doctor had to do. Which one was more unbearable? Probably online, at least offline he could shut down the burning shame that had been tormenting him since his arrival. And he did, to some extent, trust Knockout.

When he had spoken his choice, Knockout gave him a brief summary of what he would be doing. Starscream appreciated the professionalism, even if he would never say it aloud. Within moments Knockout accessed his port, overrode his systems and implemented his medical codes. Starscream was out instantly.

When he came to, his chronometer was only a few minutes ahead of his last check. He was on his front, and the berth had been oriented to a horizontal plane. Indicators informed him his valve panel had been accessed via the same medical codes, but everything was as it should be. He brought himself to his elbows, wings flexing out his short offline.

“Good news, your system is extremely adaptive to interface related damages,” Knockout spoke without even looking up from his datapad by the slab. “You do have some trauma related contusions on your ceiling nodes, a lesion within the vertex wall of your valve, and a misalignment of your hip axes due to said trauma, which is why your limp has not healed as fast as your protoform damages – _which_ , I might add, are repairing themselves extraordinarily well.” He looked up from the details in his servo to give Starscream an impressed glance. “I suppose that really does coincide with the speculations that Seekers are built for it.”

Starscream narrowed his optics, unamused. His wings flickered in mirrored annoyance.

“But Lord Megatron did do a number on your pelvic array. I’ll have to perform minor surgery to readjust it, it won’t take long.” He set down the datapad and presented a profile of Starscream’s body on the monitor, on which it highlighted his hip area and the affected anatomy. “Lord Megatron must have been coming at you from an angle,” he dared a smirk. “Next time, tell him to aim straight.”

Starscream balled both fists, anger surging into the red zone as his wings angled back sharply. “There will _be_ no next time!” He snarled. “This was a random, insanity-driven fit of licentiousness!”

Knockout looked down at him knowingly, an irritating ghost of a smile on his faceplate. “I don’t think it was as random as you seem to believe.”

Starscream frowned, confused. “What? Of course it was. He has never shown any interest other than beating me senseless.” He glared up at Knockout, and for once questioned his own observations as the telling expression upon the medic’s face seemed to convince him otherwise. “You are just trying to delude me,” he said testily.

Knockout shook his head slightly. “Far be it from me to tell you want you don’t want to hear –”

Starscream scoffed.

“ – But you’re _blind_ , Starscream. And I mean that in the figurative sense.”

“I’m _done_ with this conversation,” the Commander said contemptuously, turning around onto his back. “Just do what you have to and do it quickly.”

“Fine,” Knockout conceded, inputting data into the monitor screen. “When you come limping back with similar injuries I look forward to saying ‘I told you so’.”

Starscream growled warningly.

Breems later, when he was finally released from the medbay – dismissing the quick leave granted to retrieve the buffer from his berth and return it – Starscream was limp free, mark free and with two fully functional, immaculate wrists. His internal damage would repair itself with a little help from a medical grade energon ration, and it was scarcely painful anymore. He could only hope that somehow Megatron had sustained interface related injuries, too. Hopefully something nasty and painful.

Starscream paused in the deserted corridor. His duty shift was stationed on the bridge to await Megatron’s orders for the solar cycle. With the recent Autobot activity, his position should be within the main circle of command, so he was privy to the decisions of their strategies. But Starscream felt a distinct urge to avoid Megatron, which, if he could find something significant and time consuming, he could probably get away with.

He turned around and headed for the opposite direction. He would attempt to calibrate the Nemesis’ sensors to boost the scanning efficiency – if he could integrate a loose system boosted and based on that of which he once used on Cybertron, perhaps it might work. He _had_ been an energon Seeker all those eons ago, he could detect the radiation of energon much better than any average bot, his sensors had been specially enhanced for it.

With his new undertaking in mind, he strode through the corridors, content to let his thoughts latch onto and develop his new effort. He felt surprisingly clear-minded, no longer pestered by dappled thoughts and unpredictable bouts of paranoia. He felt focused. Renewed.

There was definitely not a strut to his step in place of a limp.

Except when it happened again. Weeks later.

Megatron lured him back.

Starscream awoke from recharge to the very same quarters he had been violated in the first time. ‘Violated’, because he refused to recall the processor-numbing rapture that had shorted out his vocalizer, yet again.

He found himself on the large berth, his wings splayed out comfortably beneath him, and no sign of the owner. He was, however, bombarded by the vivid and heat-curling playbacks of their latest clash. Starscream pressed a clawed servo over his face and groaned. Why had he let it happen again? Why hadn’t he said no?

Because after he had been perched on the berth by a conniving warlord, his spark had leapt in excitement – whether he wanted to admit it or not. Ugh, he hated himself as much as he hated Megatron right now. That idiotic, ungraceful brute who was too big to even –

An entirely lewd image popped into Starscream’s processor as he recalled Megatron’s…size. Abashed, Starscream brought up his other palm and hid his faceplate behind both, burning with conflicting sensations. Had he seen it the first time, he would have been much more apprehensive and unwilling. But… _Primus_ , for their frameset differences it had been – curse the admission – incredible. The pain had been brief, and it forced Starscream into another realization that it had been because of Megatron’s careful preparation. He had taken his empirical knowledge and improved upon it to ease their joining, and Pits if that didn’t confound Starscream. He would never have thought Megatron would take such care with him. 

The Seeker peeked through his talons. There must be some selfish reason for it; perhaps they just simply wouldn’t _fit_ together without, but that could have been rectified with a hasty, _rushed_ stretch. There was no practical need for such meticulous dedication… No need for…

“Ugh,” Starscream growled, his sore vocalizer spitting static. Megatron did it to watch him squirm! Yes, yes that was why. He enjoyed teasing Starscream… enjoyed watching him writhe in…pleasure? No, Starscream derived more enjoyment from it than Megatron, so why would he bother? “Gaaah! It j--- doesn’t m—ke sense!”

Throwing his servos away, Starscream rose stiffly to a sitting position, wincing at the ache that traveled from his aft upwards. He retracted the ‘brief pain’ comment, sincerely hoping he would not have to take a trip to medbay. Knockout could never know it happened again; that he had been _right_. The very fact that he _was_ irritated Starscream to no end!

Another memory reload cascaded through his processor, and he was brought to stillness by the accompanying warmth. Flashes of Megatron hovering over him filled his mind, the feel of his servos pressing his own thin wrists down beside his facial fans… the surprising lack of threatening aura that surrounded him. He had felt content beneath him, at that moment; a strange and unfamiliar feeling. And then servos running down his waist… almost soothingly, cradling his hips as a hot weight withdrew from within his frame. Starscream shook his head, banishing the images. He did not want to associate any good feelings with the thought of Megatron. It was sacrilege. It just wasn’t right!

Starscream caught a glimpse of his frame, immediately playing host to a wave of angry indignation. There were marks all over him, random shallow lesions smattered across his metal as though he had been in a fight. The Seeker paused; he _had_ , sort of. Megatron had wrestled him to the floor, asserted his dominance in the unfair tussle, his advantage _ensuring_ he won. Starscream felt two opposites overcome him: Anger, the prominent and regular offender (that slagging oil-stain!); and a prickle of unfounded lust – which only fueled his anger. Why?! Why did the thought of their skirmish bring a flare of heat to his circuits? He couldn’t _stand_ Megatron’s power advantage – he had always used it dishonorably, to beat down those smaller and weaker merely to show that he can. So why in the Pits did that – being grappled like that – turn him on? It made him so angry! Curse this insatiable frame of his!

With a livid fling, he sent an entire shelf of datapads flying across the room, where they crashed into the wall. There was a quarter-full energon cube on another, he sent that sailing in the same direction. And then, because it wasn’t enough, he slashed at the wall with his sharp talons. Four distinguished lines decorated the metal. He felt marginally better.

Sliding down to his pedes – oh, Primus, he felt a warm trickle – he set about his way to Megatron’s wash racks, grumbling as he hobbled over. If he had acquired yet another limp that had to be surgically altered he was going to blow a fuse.

It was a little unnerving to enter the same wash racks for the same purpose after the same event for a _second_ time. Was there something _wrong_ with Megatron? Had he entered some unknown, long-lost phase in his primeval mining code that required him to pound some poor, smaller mech senseless? Or had Knockout finally blundered within his medical practice and administered a _very_ unintentional aphrodisiac?

Starscream froze. What if Megatron was just suddenly horny? Very, inexplicitly horny and Starscream, his whipping mech, was now his fragging mech? No. No, no, no, no. There was no way in the Pits Starscream was going to allow Megatron to _use_ him for his sordid urges.

The solvent sprung forth, coating the Seeker as he stood unmoving beneath the spray, immobilized by his own hyperactive, paranoid thoughts. What if it really just a cruel game? A harsh avocation that satiated the warlord and left the Second in Command a baffled and twitchy mess, for his further amusement?

Starscream’s helm slowly tilted, motion to his musing. Was it simply because he was too irresistible? Starscream’s always been aware he’s a fine piece of Seeker issue, there’s never been a doubt (simply look at him), but… he still couldn’t believe that after all these eons, all these vorns, Megatron had never made a move if that was the case.

“May-- he w-s infected wi-- a malicious -ode,” Starscream said aloud, almost amused by the thought. “A randy viru-…” A single chuckle broke free.

He took his time cleansing his body, delayed by his own soliloquys and their accompanying physical gesticulations, and, more intentionally, awaiting the depletion of the hot solvent. When it ran ice-cold, he turned off the faucets, tampered with the air distributer, and strutted into the berthroom feeling somewhat vindicated. Let Megatron feel _that_ when he next took a wash. It might dampen his new-found ardor.

The Seeker stepped into the center of Megatron’s quarters. He didn’t want to stay, he had already had a snoop last time, and he didn’t plan to stick around for the persistent memories to surface with every object he laid his optics on.

With the berthroom in disarray, and the hot solvent all used up, he shuffled to the door. 

His work here was done.


End file.
